Agan gritted his teeth, his breath ragged as he gripped his spear with renewed determination. Tarek’s fallen form lay somewhere behind him, but he couldn’t look back. Not now. The empire’s soldiers were surging forward, their movements unrelenting, and every instinct in Agan screamed to stand his ground.

Garik and Aska were beside him, their faces hardened with grief and rage. Around them, the villagers who could still fight braced themselves, forming a ring of defense around the heart of Murkrest. The elder Saka stood in the center, her staff raised, her chants quiet but steady as she wove words of protection around the village.

A line of empire soldiers advanced, shields raised and spears leveled. Their steps were measured, relentless, and the defenders could feel the weight of each one as they pressed into Murkrest’s last stronghold. Agan clenched his fists, forcing himself to stand taller, to fight back the rising tide of hopelessness.

“Hold the line!” Elder Saka’s voice rang out, her tone firm, unwavering. “For Tarek, for Murkrest—do not give them a single inch.”

The words ignited something fierce in Agan’s chest. He glanced at Garik and Aska, his eyes meeting theirs, and he could see the same resolve reflected in their faces. This was it. They would fight for every breath, for every heartbeat. This wasn’t just survival. It was defiance.

The first empire soldier broke through, his spear thrust forward in a brutal arc. Agan sidestepped, bringing his own weapon up and blocking the strike, the impact jolting up his arms. He twisted his grip, driving the spear down and forcing the soldier off-balance. Garik lunged forward, taking advantage of the opening and striking the soldier down with a fierce, precise blow.

Another soldier advanced, his blade raised high, and Agan ducked, sweeping his spear low and striking the man’s knee. The soldier crumpled with a shout, and Aska quickly moved in to finish him off, her movements swift, decisive.

But the empire’s ranks continued to press forward, each fallen soldier replaced by another. Agan could feel his muscles straining, his breath quickening as he parried, blocked, and struck, each move more desperate than the last. Every victory felt hollow, a momentary reprieve against an endless tide.

Around him, the defenders were faltering, the weight of exhaustion settling over them. Agan glanced back, his heart twisting as he saw familiar faces—neighbors, friends—pushed to the edge of their limits. Blood streaked through the dirt, the air thick with the metallic scent of it, mingling with the damp, earthy smell of the swamp.

Garik stumbled beside him, catching himself just before a soldier’s sword came down. Agan lunged, intercepting the blow, the shock of it vibrating through his arms. Garik met his gaze, giving him a quick nod, a silent thank you, before they turned back to the fight.

Aska darted forward, her sling spinning as she launched a stone into the face of a soldier who had broken through the line. She moved with a fierce grace, her strikes precise and relentless, her gaze never wavering. Agan felt a surge of pride, seeing the strength in his friends, the fire that hadn’t yet gone out.

But as the empire’s forces pushed further into the square, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. They were losing ground, inch by inch, and the gap between the defenders and the vulnerable villagers at the center of the square was closing.

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“Fall back!” Elder Saka’s voice broke through the chaos, her tone carrying a note of desperation. “Retreat to the center! Protect the people!”

Agan’s heart sank, but he knew she was right. They couldn’t hold the perimeter any longer. The defenders began to pull back, moving toward the heart of the village, forming a tighter circle around the non-combatants. It was their last line, their final hope of keeping Murkrest from being swallowed whole.

The empire soldiers followed, their eyes cold and determined, their weapons gleaming in the firelight. Agan could see the satisfaction in their faces, the certainty of victory, and it sent a surge of fury through him. He would not let them have that satisfaction.

With a shout, he charged forward, meeting the first soldier with a brutal thrust, driving his spear deep before twisting and pulling it free. Beside him, Garik fought with a desperate strength, his strikes wild but effective, each blow a testament to his resolve. Aska’s movements were a blur, her sling striking down soldiers with a relentless rhythm.

Yet for every empire soldier they brought down, two more filled the gap, advancing with an unyielding force that felt impossible to resist. Agan’s arms ached, his vision blurring as exhaustion weighed him down. He stumbled, catching himself just as a soldier’s sword sliced past him, narrowly missing his side.

Garik reached out, steadying him, his expression grim. “Agan… we can’t hold this.”

Agan’s chest tightened, but he forced himself to stand, shaking off the fatigue. “We have to try. We can’t let them—”

A sudden, violent force slammed into him, throwing him backward. He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Through a haze of pain, he saw the source—a mage, his hands glowing with a cold, eerie light, his face twisted in concentration.

The mage raised his hands again, preparing another strike, and Agan’s pulse quickened as he struggled to push himself up, his muscles screaming in protest.

But before the mage could release his spell, a figure darted forward—Elder Saka, her staff raised, her face set in fierce determination. She struck the mage with all her strength, the impact enough to disrupt his focus, his spell fading into a harmless wisp of light.

The mage stumbled back, surprise flashing in his eyes, but before he could react, Saka swung her staff again, her movements swift, unyielding. The mage fell, his form crumpling beneath her, and Saka turned to Agan, offering her hand.

“Up, Agan. This isn’t over,” she said, her voice steady despite the chaos.

Agan took her hand, pulling himself up, his legs unsteady but his resolve unbroken. He met Saka’s gaze, finding strength in her unwavering expression.

As they turned back to the fight, he saw a figure standing at the edge of the square—a man dressed in the empire’s uniform, his armor bearing the insignia of command. His gaze swept over the defenders, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as he raised a hand, signaling his soldiers to advance.

Agan’s heart pounded as he realized what the signal meant. This was it—the final push. The empire wasn’t going to let them hold out any longer.

“Everyone! To the center!” Agan shouted, his voice hoarse but fierce. “We hold here!”

The defenders moved together, closing ranks as the empire soldiers advanced in a final, unstoppable wave. The clash of weapons filled the air, each strike a desperate attempt to hold the line, to protect what little remained.

Agan fought with everything he had, each movement fueled by the memories of his village, his people, the life they’d built here. The pain faded, the exhaustion melted away, replaced by a fierce, unyielding fire. He was no longer just fighting for himself—he was fighting for Murkrest, for Tarek, for every soul that had stood beside him.

But the empire soldiers were relentless, their numbers overwhelming, their movements coordinated and precise. Agan felt himself being pushed back, his strength waning as the line faltered, the weight of the fight pressing down on him.

Just as his legs gave out, he felt a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. He looked up to see Garik, his face streaked with blood and dirt, his gaze fierce.

“Together, Agan. We hold this together.”

Agan nodded, gripping his spear tighter as he stood beside his friend, ready to face whatever came next.